


Poses

by CatsoftheApocalypse



Series: The One with the Supernatural Boys [19]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Blood, F/M, Fluff, Pain, injured reader, near-death situations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-05-23 18:59:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6126845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatsoftheApocalypse/pseuds/CatsoftheApocalypse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The original anonymous request shall suffice as a summary:<br/>"omg i just finished your Sex & Candy fanfic with Gabe, and it was amazing!! Like, woah... The way you portrayed him, and the he-witch scene? Amazing!! If you feel up to it, would you be able to do one with Crowley x Reader, where the reader gets into a whole heap of near-death situations, with smut and fluffy moments too? Thank you!! <3"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One Man Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's definetely something starting here, but what?

_Considering the standards he usually upheld, he was positively slouching on his throne. His elbow on the armrest, chin in hand, his gaze drifted on to the next demon in line, who was just stepping forward. His boredom was almost tangible in the stale air around him as he lazily waved his other hand, motioning for his subject to begin. Not needing to be told twice, the demon immediately launched into an extensive litany of complaints, completely oblivious to his king’s indifference._  
_The King of Hell willed himself to push through his lethargy, at least enough to capture a bit of what his subject was blabbering about. On any other given day, there was always a part of him that enjoyed holding court like this immensely. He delighted in anything that displayed what he had accomplished, everything he had worked for. Labored so hard, plotted so ingeniously to gain, to keep, to recover. But, for some reason, he had a difficult time concentrating._  
_His eyes drifted throughout the vast room, nothing able to truly capture his attention for any significant amount of time. Every pillar was so familiar, every crack in the walls so well known. Studied intimately during previous, equally tedious affairs like this. Still, he had never been this uninvolved when facing a seemingly endless stream of petitioners._  
_He was not quite certain how much time had passed when he became aware of the droning silence surrounding him and snapped into focus to find every demon in the room staring at him expectantly. Scrambling together a verdict based on what he had actually registered, he issued a – surely far too lenient – decree and suppressed and apathetic yawn as the next demon stepped forward._  
_It was only lately that he sometimes felt so… listless while attending to matters of state. Ever since he met her. But it couldn’t be because of her. No, it must be mere coincidence. She was nothing but a human. A hunter who happened to cross paths with the Winchesters, and consequently it had only been a matter of time until he ran into her as well. Nothing unusual. But again, why was he so… intrigued by her? Captivated, even? It was positively unsettling._

 _His thoughts kept going in circles until the last demon was done whining about soul numbers and he retired to his private rooms._  
_His first action there was, obviously, to pour himself a drink. Yet, he was not given the opportunity to enjoy it, as his first sip was already interrupted by a rather timid knock on the heavy door._  
_“What is it?” he barked._  
_The door creaked open, slowly, and the practically useless demon he had chosen in an attempt to replace Guthrie poked his head in. He sighed, resigned to the fact that it truly was difficult to find good personnel._  
_“S-Sir…” the demon stuttered._  
_“What?”_  
_“The human… The female you had me keep an eye on…”_  
_“What about her?”_  
_“She’s dying.”_  
_“I see. You may leave.” He waved the underling off._  
_As soon as the meek demon was out of the door, it was hit by the crystal tumbler, glittering splinters and his best whiskey dispersing in a wide radius._  
_He rushed towards a small cabinet in a corner, containing a few of the more useful spells, potions and elixirs he had picked up from his red-headed, lying, treacherous whore of a mother and dug something out from the very back of the top shelf. Then he took a second to locate her before he vanished._

 _He found himself in a dilapidated – one could hardly call it a house anymore, really. The walls seemed to crumble if one so much as looked at them. He could hear the sounds of the Winchesters fighting whatever creatures downstairs, and just a few meters in front of him the girl – woman – he could not banish from his thoughts was laying on the floor, nearly lifeless, a silver knife and gun just out of her reach. The creature crouching over her was a particularly displeasing sight. Its skin, broken up and cracked in places, like old lacquer, was of a greenish hue and seemed to be rotting away, even as it sank its teeth into its prey. The girl was close to death, only the faintest sounds of protest leaving her lips._  
_It cost him but a narrowing of his eyes to have the creature explode, filling the room with a dark red mist for a few moments, after which the only hint left of it was the lingering stench of its intestines._  
_Quickly, he sank to one knee at her side, and let a few drops from the bottle he had brought run past her lips. Softly feeling for her pulse, he felt an odd sense of relief when he noticed it strengthening already. Her eyes, glassy and unfocused as they were, met his, and he felt a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth. He rested a hand against her bloodied cheek and her eyes fluttered shut just as the sounds of fighting on the lower level ceased and were replaced by the Winchester’s heavy footfalls on the stairs and their voices calling her name. He was gone before they reached the room._

“Cas, are you sure it’s not better if you heal her?”  
“It is as I said, Dean. She is healing already. Something is at work in her system, and she is getting stronger by the second. If I interfere and try to heal her, I cannot guarantee what the consequence will be.”  
“Something. Something? WHAT???”  
“Dean, shhh…”  
“Don’t you dare shush me, Sammy!”  
“He’s right. What she needs is rest, and you are causing a ruckus.”  
“Then why, Cas, don’t you just tell me what exactly it is that it ‘at work in her system’, huh?”  
“Because I do not know. But I can tell you it is good. I can sense nothing questionable or harmful in it.”  
“Well, isn’t that just a huge relief…”  
“Guys, can we at least move this to the library?”  
The sounds of Dean’s bickering, Cas’ calm replies and Sam’s attempts to moderate faded slowly as they moved away from the room, and I was left alone with the burning pain searing away at the entirety of my being. I was not yet conscious enough to open my eyes or speak, let alone move anything like an arm or leg, so I had no choice but tie lie in what I assumed to be my bed and bear it.  
I did not remember how I got back to the bunker. The last thing I knew for certain was the hunt we’d been on going so far south it’d crossed the damn equator. We’d been severely mistaken about the number of monsters we were going to face, and after we’d done away with two of the five I’d followed the third one upstairs, determined not to let it get away, Sam and Dean still busy with number four and five downstairs. I had caught up with it rather easily, but it had lashed out with way more force and desperation than I’d expected, which was, in hindsight, probably owed to the fact that we had just disposed of almost half its pack. Dirty claws had slashed deeply into my arm and I had lost the grip on my knife, which slipped out of my bloody fingers when the creature smashed me to the floor, my gun landing just out of my reach as well. Then, there had been nothing but red and pain as it mauled my neck, and I had been sure I was done for.  
Until all of a sudden, the worst of it was over. The creature’s weight had disappeared from my body, and the room was filled with an unbearable stench. I dimly recalled the sound of footsteps. The taste of something sweet on my lips. Two fingers on my neck. I remembered dark eyes and a soft smile, and the rich scent of a good single malt. And then nothing.

I could not be entirely certain if or when I had fallen asleep, but when I opened my eyes, it definitely felt like waking up. To my immeasurable relief, I was no longer in pain, either. I sat up and gut to my feet, albeit a little shaky, to slowly make my way to the floor-length mirror in the corner of my room. My shirt and jeans were stiff with dried blood and I felt a little lightheaded, but as I carefully inspected my reflection, I found no trace of the wounds I knew had to have been there. I considered taking a quick shower first, to clean up, but I dimly recollected Dean’s heated discussion with Cas, and decided to find the boys right away.

Sam and Dean both sat with their backs to the hallway when I entered the library, so Cas, who sat across the table from them, saw me first and nodded at me with a smile. His attention roused by the motion, Dean turned and, upon seeing me, knocked over his chair as he hurried to pull me into a bone-crushing hug, his brother not far behind.  
“Thank God you’re okay.” He mumbled into my hair somewhere. “You are, aren’t you? How do you feel?”  
“Dean…” I sighed, holding on to him just as tightly. “I’m good.”  
I knew his fear of losing people, especially those close to him, and even if I had not, the way his whole body was shaking ever so slightly would have been telling enough. After a few moments of reassuringly rubbing his back he released me. Sam gave me a little squeeze as well and we sat down, Sam moving to the chair to Cas’ right while I took a seat next to Dean.  
“What happened?” I asked.  
“We were hoping you could tell us. After we’d finally taken out those two… things, we came to find you, but when we did, the last one was nowhere in sight, and you were…” Dean stopped himself, avoiding t specify the state they’d found me in. “What do you remember?”  
“Not much.” I shrugged. “After it turned and attacked me, I must’ve blacked out pretty soon.”  
I didn’t want to bring up the figure I dimly recalled, mostly because it reminded me of someone I definitely should not have been as intrigued by as I was.  
“I must’ve been in pretty bad shape.”  
“You were.” Dean confirmed, and I rested my hand on his arm when I saw his own shake slightly as he took I sip of beer. “I wanted Cas to heal you, but he wouldn’t… He said-“  
“Something already was? Yeah, I heard.”  
“Told ya.” Sam muttered, and Dean glared at him.  
“That was three days ago.” The older brother then continued.  
“Three days???”  
“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “Dean was on edge the whole time. I mean, we both were. Even though Cas-“  
“I told you, whatever healed F/N was good.” Cas threw in.  
“I’m sure you’re right, Cas.” I said to him with a smile, not wanting him to think I blamed him for not healing me faster.  
“Never said I – we – didn’t believe you, Cas.” Sam defended his brother and himself. “It just wasn’t all that easy, seeing F/N like that… In any case, we figured we should at least try to find out what was going on while we were waiting for you to wake up.”  
“Any luck?”  
“No, we came up empty. And since you don’t remember much… We can only assume it was some kind of magic, but without any tips to narrow it down,…”  
“Well, I feel normal. I suppose that’s the best we can ask for at this point.”  
I briefly considered telling them about the figure anyway, but I was not even certain whether it was a memory or a blood loss induced delusion, so I decided against it. I opted to clean up and change instead, and Dean announced he would go grab a bite for all of us in the meantime.


	2. Cigarettes & Chocolate Milk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting stranger and stranger for both, you, and Crowley.

_The King of hell sighed warily. He was still torn between relief that he had been able to save F/N’s life, and distress that he had felt the need to do so in the first place. At least he’d managed to remain undetected by the Winchesters in his weakness._  
_Yet, since the incident a few weeks ago, his infatuation with the woman staying with them had only grown. He had taken to watching her himself when she was on a hunt with Sam and Dean, whenever he had the time to spare. And although she had come close to danger a few times, there had not been another situation a dire._  
_Every now and then, he caught himself imagining how it would feel to idly run his fingers through her hair, or recalling the feeling of the soft skin of her cheek against his palm, the slow thumping of her pulse against his fingertips. The warmth in his chest when her eyes met his._  
_He knew he shouldn’t have these… desires. The urge to be close to her, simply in order to make sure she was safe. The need to touch her. It was not normal. It went against anything and everything he knew._  
_And still…_

“What the bloody hell-“  
I turned around to look at the speaker when the half-sentence reached my ears.  
“Hey Dean. What’s up?”  
“I was about to ask you the same, you know, but I got kind of distracted by – honestly, I’m not even sure what you’re doing. And Sam says my room is a mess.”  
“It’s called research.”  
“What? Please don’t tell me this is-“  
“A Men of Letters file? It is. Several, actually.” I confirmed, and shock widened his eyes.  
“Sammy’s gonna kill you.”  
“Don’t be ridiculous. He loves me. Platonically. Besides, there is a method to this madness, and once I’m done, I’ll have it all neatly filed away again, just as it was, in no time.”  
“You better, because-“  
“Hush! I – I think I’ve found it!”  
“Found what?”  
I held up my hand to silence him, staring at the line that had caught my attention in concentration.  
“Ha!” I cried out in triumph, snatching up that particular sheet.  
“What is it?” Dean pressed.  
“That possible case Sam mentioned this morning? The thing in Palm Beach?”  
Dean perked up when I mentioned the location.  
“You mean that case no other hunter thinks exists?”  
“Oh, it exists alright.” I muttered, still focused on the words in front of me. “And I know exactly what it is we’re dealing with. Get Sam, would ya? Meet me in the library.”

My head leaning back against the leather seat, I listened to the Impala’s engine rumbling as we made our way towards Florida. Dean was more excited about the location than a kid was on Christmas Eve, and I had a nagging suspicion we wouldn’t get to leave after the hunt until he’d spent at least one day roasting at the beach. I could live with that.  
But first we had to make the long drive. Which meant I would have plenty of time to think about things I probably shouldn’t be thinking about. Like the figure that, and I was now absolutely certain about that, had saved my life weeks ago. The King of Hell. Crowley.  
Although I had assumed it was him from the very start, it had taken me quite some time to actually admit it to myself. And that I had, there was of course still the troubling question why he would do such a thing. Why the King of Hell would save a human life. A hunter’s life no less. Did he want anything with me? Did he want anything from the boys? Unlikely. If that was his endgame, why would he have disappeared before they even had a chance to discover his involvement?  
And, what for some reason seemed to be the most pressing question for me: When would I see him again?

“F/N, watch out!” Dean cried, and I turned around just in time to cut the head off of something that seemed to be more insect than creature of the night.  
This was the creature I’d read about during one of my sleepless nights at the bunker, when I used to peruse the Men of Letters’ files. And when Sam had mentioned and described what was going on here in Palm Beach, I had dimly remembered, but wanted more detail. Thus, Dean had found me amidst said files.  
According to the old accounts, these things liked a warm, humid climate, which explained where we were. They had a lot in common with your ordinary house fly, including their eyes, which were a distressing sight to behold. As was so very often the case, chopping off their heads was the easiest and quickest way to get rid of them.  
While all this ran through my head, I kept fighting and chopping on autopilot. They were easy to kill, but on the downside, they came in great numbers, as they tended to form a sort of hive. It was not long before I lost sight of both of the boys.  
The wet sound of blades slicing and bloody goo splattering was all throughout the house, which was – of course – in serious disrepair. However, it slowly but surely died down. When I had not encountered another of the creatures for several minutes, I wiped the sweat from my brow and cleaned my Machete with a tattered piece of curtain, deciding it was time to find the boys and get out of here.  
My steps apparently not as careful as they should have been, I had just opened my mouth to call out to them and alert them to my location when I crashed through the floor.

When my body landed, it did so not on rubble and splintered wood as I expected, but in a pair of strong, warm arms. I cautiously opened my eyes, previously squeezed shut in a knee-jerk sort of reaction, and found myself face to face with the demon who had been so frequently on my mind.  
“Hello, dear.” he said, one corner of his mouth quirking up in amusement.  
“Crowley?”  
“Usually you seem to be more eloquent.” he remarked dryly, gently setting me down at the same time.  
Just then, a last one of the creatures emerged from the shadows, intent on attacking us, but Crowley merely flicked his wrist and it flew against a wall, where it was squashed like the bug it was.  
“Why are you saving me? And for the second time?” I questioned, shaking my head to dispel the fresh memory of that rather grim display.  
For a moment, I thought I saw doubt and, yes, even insecurity in his eyes, but the glimpse was gone just as quickly as it had appeared.  
“No time for small talk, dear, your boyfriends heard the crash and are coming to look for you.”  
He squared his shoulders and I knew he was about to disappear, but I rested my hand on his arm.  
“Wait. Please. Tell me why.”  
“I don’t know.”

The Winchesters had burst into the room just seconds after Crowley had vanished, and I made a show of brushing off my clothes as if I had just crawled from the rubble. We’d done a last sweep of the house to make sure we had offed every last one of the creatures before heading to the motel to get some sleep.  
Now, Sam was taking a quick shower after his morning run, Dean was talking to the guy at the front desk to find out which part of the beach was the best, and I was frantically digging through my duffel but, alas, it was no use. I turned and was ready to flop down on my bed to mourn the fact that we were in Palm Beach and I had forgotten to pack my bathing suit, when a rather small white box with a black and silver bow that had most certainly not been there before caught my eye. There was a note attached to it, which I hurried to read before pulling the lid off the box.  
>It would be a shame to waste the opportunity, would it not?<

_He stood in the shadow of a small shop renting out overpriced deck chairs to excited tourists, always keeping his eyes on her. He barely felt the smoldering heat of the sun burning down around him, but he could certainly smell the salty ocean on the low breeze._  
_He watched as Squirrel laid out her towel for her while she rubbed sun lotion into Moose’s back, laughing at some joke he made, and almost growled at the sight of her slender hands travelling over another man’s body. Then again, he questioned why it bothered him so when she touched someone else. After all, it wasn’t like he wanted himself to be the one she touched. That would have been ludicrous._  
_He was about to retreat, to return to Hell, when she got to her feet and dashed toward the azure, closely followed by Dean Winchester. He admired her form for a few moments longer, the way the tasteful, one-piece black bathing suit clung to her body as she moved, until the very second he lost sight of her in a splash of water._  
_It would have been a shame indeed._


	3. Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brothers need to ask for Crowley's help on a hunt, and you intervene when Dean is about to loose his temper.

“There’s been another death.” the Sheriff said, loud and clearly audible through the speaker of Dean’s phone.  
He gave us a few more details, and we promised to investigate this killing along with the others we had come for. In light of the new information, the brothers finally admitted that I was right. That we had no choice but to summon the one demon who might be able to shed some light on this whole issue. Who could give us access to what we needed in order to find the creature responsible, which would otherwise be impossible to locate.  
After a little discussion about means, ends and justification, I excused myself to the bathroom, more to check if I looked okay than anything else, while Dean dialed 666.  
  
Crowley was already with the boys when I reentered the room, his eyes flitting towards me at the sound of the door. I smiled involuntarily, and for a split second I thought he might do the same, but then Dean spoke.  
“What do you mean, no?” he growled angrily.  
“Exactly what the word implies, Squirrel. That I will not give you one of my hellhounds. For all I know, you could be starting these blasted trials of yours up again.”  
“Don’t be ridiculous. You know we won’t do that. Nobody would volunteer, and out of the three of us, no one is that suicidal.”  
“My answer still stands.” the King of Hell remained firm.  
“You selfish son of a bitch!” Dean cursed.  
When shot him and his brother a look, I could see that even Sam was shocked at the liberties he took with the sovereign of demon kind. _  
  
“Selfish son of a witch, if you please.” Crowley merely corrected. “Your manners are truly appalling, Dean. There is a lady present.”  
“Nobody has ever accused me of being a lady before.” F/N said, and he turned to her with a smirk.  
“Well, darling, they should.”  
She glanced at the brothers in turn, biting her lip before she spoke again. His heart skipped a beat at the sight.  
“Dean, Sam, can I speak to Crowley alone please?” she requested, her voice carrying only the slightest hint of hesitation.  
He was surprised by what he heard, but managed well enough to hide that fact from the Winchesters.  
“No way in hell!” Dean exclaimed, raising his voice.  
His brother maintained a calmer tone.  
“F/N, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”  
“Sam, trust me. Please.”  
“You’re not asking us to trust you. You’re asking us to trust him.” Moose stressed, pointing in Crowley’s direction.  
He followed the exchange closely, curious what she might be hoping to accomplish if she spoke to him alone. And also, as much as he did not want to admit it, elated that she was actually willing, even wanted, to be alone with him in the first place.  
“No.” F/N insisted meanwhile. “I’m asking you to trust me, and my ability to defend myself, should it become necessary. Which I doubt.”_  
  
A few more objections were raised by either of the brothers, but in the end, I got my way. Sam dragged his still hesitant brother out of the motel room with him, but turned around once more before closing the door.  
“We’ll stay close.”  
Of course they would. I nodded, and the door fell shut behind them.  
“Would you like some tea?” I asked, not waiting for an answer before I began to prepare two cups.  
The steaming beverages between us, we sat down on the rooms two only chairs a few minutes later.  
“How did you know?” Crowley asked, gesturing towards his tea when I raised a questioning eyebrow.  
“Oh, about the splash of milk?” A nod. “Lucky guess.”  
I shifted in my chair, which appeared to amuse him at first, but his expression quickly grew serious again.  
“Why were you so eager to speak to me alone?” he asked. “You know I could kill you right now, and there would be nothing you are these two outside could do about it.”  
Taking a slow sip from my cup, I thought about my answer.  
“I don’t think you will.”  
“What makes you so sure?”  
“Well, for starters, you saved my life. Twice. You were under no obligation to do so. It brought you no benefit. If you wanted me dead, you could’ve just saved yourself the trouble.”  
“Fair enough.” he said with a small nod. “So, what is it then that you’re going to say to convince me to help you and the Winchesters with your little problem?”  
“Nothing.”  
The King of Hell’s eyes widened just a fraction.  
“Oh?”  
“I trust that you will come to the conclusion it’s the right thing to do on your own.”  
He scoffed, dismissing the notion as far-fetched.  
“Then what?”  
“Let me ask you something. Why did you do it?”  
“Do what?”  
“Save my life.”  
“I don’t know.” he said again, just like the first time I had asked, and he seemed a little distressed about it, as if he didn’t like not knowing this.  
“You said that before. But aren’t you curious? I know I would be. Scratch that. I know I _am_.”  
“Perhaps.” He replied, stretching the word a bit.  
I watched him in silence for a while, and he watched me in return. Not once did his eyes stray from my face, as if he was searching for something, a sign in my expression, an indication of where this was going. What I was looking for? Well, that remained to be determined. Hope, maybe?  
“Thank you.” I suddenly blurted out, as soon as the thought crossed my mind.  
“What for?”  
“The bathing suit.”  
Again, he nodded, and then I realized something, chuckling at my own negligence.  
“And for saving my life, I suppose.” I added.  
Crowley waved off the gratitude for my life. Instead, he briefly let his eyes wander my body. At last, a hint.  
“You wore it well.” he commented.  
“You saw me wear it?”  
At this he just shrugged, opting not to comment.  
I swallowed, trying to determine whether getting an answer to the burning question I now had was worth risking his anger. Maybe not. But then, I was known to make stupid decisions whenever I damn well pleased.  
“Are you attracted to me?”  
The words, hurriedly leaving my mouth, shocked not only myself, but him as well. His eyes flashed red, just for the fraction of a moment, but it was enough for me to be reminded that fear was a more reasonable reaction to his presence than attraction. Desire. Craving. Lust.  
Minutes passed, and he still had not answered.  
“What does it matter?” he finally asked.  
I watched as he stood from his seat, smoothing out his suit and obviously preparing to leave.  
  
_He looked into her wide eyes as he buttoned his jacket, waiting for a reply. None came, and as much as he hated to admit it, his heart sank a little._  
_“Sweetheart, as enjoyable as a hurried little tryst before your two bodyguards’ return would surely be, I am not in the mood for such games right now.”_  
_“That’s not what I meant.” She protested with burning cheeks._  
_“Is that so?”_  
_“No. I…” she stood as well, and approached him, slowly. “…I feel a… pull, one could say, towards you.”_  
_Her hand came to rest on his chest, and he felt as if her touch was burning right through his silken dress shirt. She was still speaking, and he eyed her carefully while he listened._  
_“It’s not a physical want.” she continued before huffing in frustration as she looked for a better suited phrase and correcting herself. “Not only. And I would simply like to know-“_  
_She simply stopped there, and her gaze dropped to his lips for a brief moment, before going to follow her fingertips in tracing the swirled pattern of his tie._  
_“Know what?” he prompted._  
_If he had been asked what he would want the answer to his question to be at that moment, his reply would have disqualified him for his throne immediately. As it was, however, he did not receive a verbal answer. Instead, she slowly raised her eyes to his again. For a few seconds, they just looked at each other again, and he felt compelled to hold his breath in anticipation as she stretched her neck and softly pressed her lips to his._  
_Before he knew what he was doing, he had one hand tangled in her hair, the other on the small of her back, pressing her body closer to his, the kiss much deeper now than when it had started. More urgent. For as long as he could, he let himself believe in something he had not even been aware of wanting. When he was unable to fool himself any longer, he pulled away from her touch and her lips, taking several steps backwards, for good measure._  
_“Tell the woodland creatures I will be here with Juliet at sundown.” he said before vanishing into thin air._  
  
I stood in the middle of the room, a hand covering my mouth, unable to move, and remained like that until the Winchesters returned.  
“What happened?” was the first thing Dean said.  
Internally, I was asking myself the same question.


	4. The Tower of Learning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weeks. Weeks, and not a word from Crowley? You can't be that bad of a kisser, can you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize profusely for the wait. I got distracted. Please forgive me. Have some fluff.

_Not for the first time today, he raised a hand to his lips, still feeling hers moving against them. The heat of her body seeping through his clothes as he held her tight. The scent of her shampoo, which had lingered on his fingers for hours after he’d had them tangled in her hair. Sometimes, he still thought he could smell it. Could feel how she had fit against him so perfectly. So naturally. So… right?_

_But it was all for nothing, of that he was sure. Maybe she was intrigued by him, and maybe she wanted to explore that interest, yet it mattered not. It must have been mere carnal desire that had led her to initiate that kiss several weeks ago. Nothing else made sense._

_As much appeal as her body held for him, it was not the only thing he wanted from her. Not even what he wanted most. He’d tried, after that kiss, so hard, to avoid even the mere thought of her, and had failed, every single day, and miserably so. She was always there, a tiny note in the back of his mind, growing steadily louder, and he had had no choice but to come to terms with the fact that he wanted her love. Even worse, the fact that she already had his. Worst of all, that he could never have that, never deserve it._

_He wasn’t even supposed to feel this. The feel at all. He had kicked human blood for a reason, after all. And up until he had met her, he thought he had been successful. But she just walked into his… existence?... and began to tear at what he was supposed to be, all without even being aware of it._

_He knew this needed to stop. This desire to be with her. To be worthy of her. To deserve her love. Still, he also knew full well what the biggest problem was. Somehow, he didn’t want it to stop._

 

“Can you cut it out?” Dean snapped, barely glancing up from the book in front of him.

“Sorry, what?” I asked, my mind still drifting as I gnawed on my lip.

“You’re drumming.”

“What?”

“Your fingers. On the table. Drumming. Stop. Please. It’s driving me nuts.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t even realized I had been doing that. “Sorry.”

I rested the offending hand in my lap instead and went back to my musings. I did a lot of mental drifting lately. Since that case we’d needed the hellhound for. Since that kiss…

Obviously, I had not told Sam and Dean about that, deeming it unlikely they would approve. But their lack of consent was not what was now weighing on my mind. Rather, it was the lack of interaction I’d had with Crowley since.

He had appeared that night, as promised, with the hellhound by his side. Dean had insisted we take precautions and wear holy-fire seared glasses at all times until the King of Hell and his pet were gone, and I had therefore been able to witness the way Juliet behaved towards her master, as compare to the way she was around us. It had been almost… endearing, actually.

Crowley himself, on the other hand… He had not spoken to me, avoided looking at me, had even gone so far as to step away whenever I had come even remotely close to him, physically. At first, I had thought it was simply a delayed reaction to the kiss we’d shared. That it meant he had no actual interest in me whatsoever. Maybe was even disgusted. But then I had remembered how it had felt to kiss him. How he had returned the kiss. Turned it from something soft and chaste into something entirely more demanding. Something greedy. Desperate. I remembered how he’d held my body close to his, how his hand felt, tangled in my hair. The faint taste of whiskey on his tongue. The barely-there scent of Sulfur.

Not knowing why he behaved like that drove me crazy, and Dean’s bickering about my nervous habits didn’t help.

“Dean, I need your phone.”

“Why don’t you use your own?” he asked, now glancing up from his book.

“Battery’s out.” I lied smoothly.

I didn’t want to go through a summoning ritual, and with the way Crowley was avoiding me like the plague, I assumed he wouldn’t answer if I called him from my own number. Dean shrugged and handed the phone over, following which I left the library, moving towards my room.

 

_“My King.” Some poor excuse for a demon’s voice snapped Crowley out of his reverie._

_“What is it?”_

_“Your telephone. It is Dean Winchester’s number.”_

_He sighed, unreasonably disappointed, and reached for the device the demon held out to him._

_“Squirrel.” He answered. “What an unpleasant surprise.”_

_“I swear on my life, if you hang up on me, I will march into Hell and kick your ass for it” HER voice penetrated his ear instead of Dean’s._

_“F/N. Delighted.”_

_“Oh, are you? Are you? Because I thought you were ignoring me.”_

_“I do not-“_

_“Don’t you dare tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about! You better get your ass to the bunker. Right. Now.”_

_It took him a few moments to collect his thoughts. He would have expected the Winchesters to try and order him around like that, but not her. Though he did not like the thought of having caused her anger, it was kind of refreshing. And maybe, just maybe, a little bit arousing._

_“The bunker? Why ever would I come there?”_

_“You and I need to talk this out. Face to face.” She stated, and then the line cut off._

 

I lowered the phone and dropped it onto my bed, still dazed by my own boldness.

I hadn’t intended to be this snappy to him, but once I had reached my room and dialed Crowley’s number, I had suddenly been so angry.

Guessing he would take his time, if he showed at all, I brought Dean his phone back, not keen on him interrupting my conversation with Crowley, should he decide to come and retrieve it. When I opened my door to re-enter my room, Crowley was already there.

“You know, if you order me around, you could at least do me the courtesy of actually being there when I appear.” He said, his voice carrying an indignant undertone.

“Screw you.”

“Is that why you called? To shout abuse at me?”

“No. I want you to tell me, once and for all, why you saved my life.”

“I have said it before. I don’t know.”

“Liar.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You don’t save somebody’s life and then kiss them like that, and still don’t know why. So tell me.”

“As I recall, it was you who kissed me.” He pointed out with a smug smile, which immediately fell at my answer.

“That may be so, but it was you who turned that kiss into what it ended up being. It was you who broke it off. It was you who disappeared, and then did not talk to, or even look at, me all night.”

He remained silent, but had the good sense to look ashamed.

“Why, Crowley?”

Still nothing.

“You know, if you’re so disgusted at the very thought of what happened, next time my life is in danger, don’t bother.”

 

_His eyes snapped up from the ground to look at her, and found her expression… not sad, exactly. More… resigned. Could it really be?_

_“I could never do that. Let you die if I stand a chance to stop it from happening.” He pressed out between his teeth._

_“Well, that’s just fabulous, so there’s a guy who can’t stand the sight of me, but for some inexplicable reason still feels obliged to save my life? Thank you. Thank you very fucking much.”_

_“It’s not that I can’t stand the sight of you.”_

_“Then what the fuck is it??? Why are you not telling me what’s going on?”_

_“I can’t.”_

_“Why not?”_

_“BECAUSE I WANT SOMETHING I CAN’T HAVE!!!”_

 

Stupidly blinking, I stared at Crowley for a few moments after his outburst, and it began to dawn on me what he was hiding.

“You’re afraid.” I said in a low whisper, cautiously taking a step closer to him, and another. “What of?”

I reached him where he was standing at the foot of my bed, stubbornly looking away from me, and could see that he wanted to shrink away when I reached to touch my fingertips to his cheek, but he didn’t.

“This?” I asked, beginning to lean forward. “Or this?”

I slowly pressed my lips to his, tender, delicate, tentative. Crowley didn’t respond to the kiss, but he did not recoil either. It was just a few seconds before I pulled away.

“You should not doubt your own words.” I whispered, and watched confusion cloud his eyes. “I think you know I’ve heard about the trials. Sam told me what happened in that church. Well, he let me read the report he wrote, Man of Letters that he is… I know what you said when he had you all hyped up on his blood. You were right. You deserve to be loved.”

**Author's Note:**

> Don't hesitate to comment, I want to know what you think!


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